Forward and Backward
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Summary: Arya learns of Myrcella's fate. Arya/Myrcella.
Written for gameofships daily prompts.
Note: This is just me playing with the pairing, don't expect anything terribly deep.
Forward and Backward
"Dorne." Arya bitterly repeats the vile word. Her companion murmurs unintelligibly in response, and allows her damp hair to fall in front of her face to hide her expression; she fails miserably in her attempt, Arya knows the Princess too well to be fooled by such simple tactics. The very thought of being sent against her will into a marriage is abhorrent, Arya would never stand for it, but the thought of Myrcella being sent away distresses her yet more, until she cannot hold back her tremor of anger, so violent that it splashes water from the sides of their shared bath.
"No." She continues stubbornly, but Arya cannot keep the quiver from her voice. The Queen Regent and King have taken everything from her - they won't take Myrcella, too. The Princess is the only one who shows her any kindness or acceptance, who smiles and listens to her tales - all retold from Jon and Old Nan, but Myrcella loves them nonetheless. Her companion’s presence, always so warm and comforting, so solid and curious, wavers and her eyes remain downcast, refusing to look up at the northern girl. In stubborn desperation, a silent plea for any hope, Arya declares: “I won’t let them!”
"What do you propose I do?" Myrcella murmurs, her voice too weak to make demands. She's broken, deflated, Arya realizes - Myrcella already accepts her fate. Arya's fury only rises at her companion’s passive response and she stands, not caring that her body is uncovered, the water drips over her uncovered breasts and stomach, and stomps over to Myrcella, who stares at the steam that rises from their bath as if it's the most fascinating vision she's ever seen. Arya falls down atop her, not caring that she's larger than the other young woman or that someone might see them, and clutches her hard, drawing Myrcella's face into her shoulder so that her lips rest near her ear.
The smell of their shared wash is dizzying, but she welcomes the distraction. Arya forces her thoughts of loneliness away as she whispers quietly: "I know a way out." She feels Myrcella's sharp intake of breath and the Princess lifts her gaze, eyes wide and watery, as if the very thought of escape and freedom is painful. Arya lifts her hand to the other girl's face and brushes the tear away before it can fall, like what Jon used to do with her. Arya wants to cry, too, but she has to be strong, as Myrcella always is for her. "I found it while I was catching cats. We can escape, just the two of us." Arya speaks assuredly, but her innards feel as if they are on the verge of melting. "I suppose we can take Sansa, too." She correct herself belatedly, but her mistake earns a small smile from the Princess, who remains held against her.
"I'd like that." Myrcella returns and leans her head back into the crook of Arya's neck, her voice fragile and distant, hesitant and scared.
"We'll go north. We'll be safe there; you’ll never have to leave or be forced into marriage." Arya continues, a desperate babble, and presses her face into the other girl’s hair, so soft and pretty, different from Arya’s in every way, pretending that she doesn’t feel the cool tears drip down her shoulder, or that her own tears don’t threaten to seep from her eyes. She briefly indulges herself in the fantasy, letting herself imagine seeing Robb again - she'd have to hide Myrcella's identity, she knows - and mother, Bran, Rickon, and maybe even Jon, if he ever visits like Uncle Benjen did. A wave of despair fills her, but Arya knows what she feels is nothing compared to Myrcella’s terror.
Arya feels as if she’s in the center of a storm, where the winds and snow rage about her, and any movement will steal the peace away, tearing down the walls of her castle and forcing her into vulnerability to the elements.
When they finally meet eyes again - both of their tears are gone, replaced with identical helplessness - Arya knows that their foundations have already fallen - and all she can ask is “Why?”
Summary: Arya learns of Myrcella's fate. Arya/Myrcella.
Written for gameofships daily prompts.
Note: This is just me playing with the pairing, don't expect anything terribly deep.
Forward and Backward
"Dorne." Arya bitterly repeats the vile word. Her companion murmurs unintelligibly in response, and allows her damp hair to fall in front of her face to hide her expression; she fails miserably in her attempt, Arya knows the Princess too well to be fooled by such simple tactics. The very thought of being sent against her will into a marriage is abhorrent, Arya would never stand for it, but the thought of Myrcella being sent away distresses her yet more, until she cannot hold back her tremor of anger, so violent that it splashes water from the sides of their shared bath.
"No." She continues stubbornly, but Arya cannot keep the quiver from her voice. The Queen Regent and King have taken everything from her - they won't take Myrcella, too. The Princess is the only one who shows her any kindness or acceptance, who smiles and listens to her tales - all retold from Jon and Old Nan, but Myrcella loves them nonetheless. Her companion’s presence, always so warm and comforting, so solid and curious, wavers and her eyes remain downcast, refusing to look up at the northern girl. In stubborn desperation, a silent plea for any hope, Arya declares: “I won’t let them!”
"What do you propose I do?" Myrcella murmurs, her voice too weak to make demands. She's broken, deflated, Arya realizes - Myrcella already accepts her fate. Arya's fury only rises at her companion’s passive response and she stands, not caring that her body is uncovered, the water drips over her uncovered breasts and stomach, and stomps over to Myrcella, who stares at the steam that rises from their bath as if it's the most fascinating vision she's ever seen. Arya falls down atop her, not caring that she's larger than the other young woman or that someone might see them, and clutches her hard, drawing Myrcella's face into her shoulder so that her lips rest near her ear.
The smell of their shared wash is dizzying, but she welcomes the distraction. Arya forces her thoughts of loneliness away as she whispers quietly: "I know a way out." She feels Myrcella's sharp intake of breath and the Princess lifts her gaze, eyes wide and watery, as if the very thought of escape and freedom is painful. Arya lifts her hand to the other girl's face and brushes the tear away before it can fall, like what Jon used to do with her. Arya wants to cry, too, but she has to be strong, as Myrcella always is for her. "I found it while I was catching cats. We can escape, just the two of us." Arya speaks assuredly, but her innards feel as if they are on the verge of melting. "I suppose we can take Sansa, too." She correct herself belatedly, but her mistake earns a small smile from the Princess, who remains held against her.
"I'd like that." Myrcella returns and leans her head back into the crook of Arya's neck, her voice fragile and distant, hesitant and scared.
"We'll go north. We'll be safe there; you’ll never have to leave or be forced into marriage." Arya continues, a desperate babble, and presses her face into the other girl’s hair, so soft and pretty, different from Arya’s in every way, pretending that she doesn’t feel the cool tears drip down her shoulder, or that her own tears don’t threaten to seep from her eyes. She briefly indulges herself in the fantasy, letting herself imagine seeing Robb again - she'd have to hide Myrcella's identity, she knows - and mother, Bran, Rickon, and maybe even Jon, if he ever visits like Uncle Benjen did. A wave of despair fills her, but Arya knows what she feels is nothing compared to Myrcella’s terror.
Arya feels as if she’s in the center of a storm, where the winds and snow rage about her, and any movement will steal the peace away, tearing down the walls of her castle and forcing her into vulnerability to the elements.
When they finally meet eyes again - both of their tears are gone, replaced with identical helplessness - Arya knows that their foundations have already fallen - and all she can ask is “Why?”